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Updated: May 3, 2025
Queed glanced at him over the table, and hastily turned his glance away. He had surprised Nicolovius looking at him with a curiously tender look in his black diamond eyes. The young man went to the office that night, worried by two highly irritating ideas. One was that Nicolovius was most unjustifiably permitting himself to become dependent upon him.
"No I think my duty is to my work." He passed into the adjoining room, which was his bedroom, and shut the door. Here at his table, he passed all of the hours that he spent in the house, except after supper, when he did his work in the sitting-room with Nicolovius.
Nicolovius, who had been born Surface, suffered a moment of collapse. He fell back in his chair, and covered his face with his hands. The dying efforts of the June sun still showed in the pretty sitting-room, though the town clocks were striking seven. From without floated in the voices of merry passers; eddies of the day's celebration broke even into this quiet street.
"That is one way of putting it, I suppose." "Or did you take pity on my solitariness? You must not let me become a drag upon you." Queed, dropping into a chair, rather out of humor, made no reply. Nicolovius continued to look out of the window.
Sharlee, feeling the necessity of breaking it, still puzzling herself with speculations as to what had put it into his head to come, said at random: "Oh, do tell me how is old Père Goriot?" "Père Goriot? I never heard of him." "Oh, forgive me! It is a name we used to have, long ago, for Professor Nicolovius." A shadow crossed his brow. "He is extremely well, I believe."
Even Miss Miller, ordinarily indefatigable where gentlemen were concerned, soon gave him up. To Mr. Bylash she spoke contemptuously of him, but secretly she was awed by his stately manner of speech and his godlike indifference to all pleasures, including those of female society. Of them all, Nicolovius was the only one who seemed in the least impressed by Mr.
However, Nicolovius had wiped out any economy here by spending his money freely to repair and beautify. He had had workmen in the house for a month, papering, painting, plumbing, and altering. "Dozens of people could not get in the church," said Queed. "They stood outside in the street till the service was over." Nicolovius was looking out of the window, and answered casually.
For indeed there was no escaping it." Queed said that he had seen it. "You had a good place to see it from, I hope?" Excellent; Miss Weyland's porch. "Ah!" said Nicolovius, with rather an emphasis, and permitted a pause to fall. "A most charming young lady charming," he went on, with his note of velvet irony which the young man peculiarly disliked. "I hear she is to marry your Mr. West.
If the only true measure is economic efficiency, no one can question that the old Southern system was one of the worst ever conceived." "Can you, expert upon organized society as you are, admit any doubts upon that point?" "I am admitting doubts upon a good many points these days." Nicolovius resumed his cigarette. Talk languished. Both men enjoyed a good silence.
"I can only say," she observed, sinking into a chair and picking up her book, "that such goings on were never heard of in my day." In which Professor Nicolovius drops a Letter on the Floor, and Queed conjectures that Happiness sometimes comes to Men wearing a Strange Face. Queed sat alone in the sitting-room of the Duke of Gloucester Street house.
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